In the most remote corner of the Amazon rainforest, where civilization meets its absolute edge, something deeply fucked up is happening. A small yellow device—about the size of an iPhone—has appeared in a Korubo village, endlessly looping Biblical passages and American Baptist sermons in Portuguese. It's solar-powered, so it never stops. Ever.

This is what evangelism looks like in 2025: high-tech harassment disguised as salvation, targeting some of the last truly isolated humans on Earth.

The God Squad Goes Digital

The Javari Valley sits on Brazil's border with Peru, home to the largest concentration of uncontacted Indigenous peoples anywhere on the planet. It's one of the last places where humans live completely outside the reach of WiFi, Instagram, and capitalism. Naturally, this makes it irresistible to Christian missionaries who see these communities as the final frontier for Jesus.

But here's the thing: Brazil banned missionaries from these territories years ago. The highest court in the country said absolutely not to evangelical intrusion, especially during COVID when contact could literally kill entire communities. So the God squad got creative.

Enter the solar sermon machine. A joint investigation by The Guardian and Brazilian newspaper O Globo exposed this dystopian evangelical tech, revealing that these audio devices broadcasting Biblical content in Portuguese and Spanish have been planted among the Korubo people. Because apparently, respecting Indigenous autonomy is optional when you're trying to save souls.

Surveillance Christianity

The audio devices aren't working alone. Drones have been spotted buzzing over Indigenous territories, conducting aerial surveillance like some kind of religious CIA operation. This isn't your grandmother's missionary work—this is full spectrum evangelism with all the surveillance capitalism vibes you'd expect from Silicon Valley, except the product being sold is eternal salvation.

Before the pandemic hit, three missionaries—Thomas Andrew Tonkin, Josiah McIntyre, and Wilson de Benjamin Kannenberg—were already plotting to contact the Korubo using seaplanes to map trails and locate their homes. They were linked to New Tribes Mission of Brazil and a group called Wings of Relief, because nothing says "humanitarian aid" like stalking isolated Indigenous communities from the sky.

When the courts shut them down during COVID, they didn't give up. They just went digital.

The Last Humans

The Korubo are among the most recently contacted Indigenous groups in the Amazon, which makes them perfect targets for this technological evangelism. They've maintained their traditional ways of life for centuries, deliberately avoiding contact with the outside world as a survival strategy. And they're absolutely right to do so.

History shows us what happens when isolated Indigenous communities meet missionaries: disease outbreaks, cultural destruction, demographic collapse. It's colonialism with a Jesus filter, and the results are always the same. Communities that have thrived for thousands of years get decimated within a generation.

But evangelical organizations see this differently. To them, these are souls that haven't been saved yet, and that's apparently more important than the fact that these communities have explicitly chosen isolation as their way of life.

Technological Colonialism

The solar-powered sermon devices represent something new and particularly insidious: colonialism that doesn't require colonizers to show up in person. It's remote cultural violence, delivered via renewable energy technology that would make any tech startup jealous.

These devices can run indefinitely, broadcasting evangelical content day and night to communities that never consented to receive it. The recipients can't turn them off, can't argue back, can't negotiate with the voices speaking to them in languages they barely understand about a god they never asked to hear about.

It's psychological warfare disguised as spiritual outreach, and it's happening in 2025 in one of the most remote places on Earth.

Legal Gray Zones

The beauty of the solar sermon strategy (from the missionaries' perspective) is that it technically avoids direct contact. Brazilian law prohibits unauthorized contact with uncontacted peoples, but what happens when the contact is digital? When the intrusion comes through speakers instead of people?

This is the legal gray zone that evangelical groups are exploiting. They're not technically violating contact prohibitions because they're not physically present. But they're absolutely violating the spirit of these laws, which exist to protect Indigenous communities from outside interference of any kind.

It's the kind of loophole that would make any tech bro proud: disrupting traditional legal frameworks through innovative solutions that nobody thought to regulate yet.

The Surveillance State of Salvation

The use of drones for Indigenous surveillance adds another layer of dystopian horror to this story. These communities have survived for centuries by knowing their territory intimately, by being able to detect and avoid outside threats. Suddenly they're being watched from above by machines they can't hear, see, or counter.

It's surveillance capitalism meets evangelical Christianity, with Indigenous peoples as the unwilling subjects of both systems. Their movements, their homes, their daily lives become data points in a missionary strategy that treats their autonomy as an obstacle to overcome rather than a right to respect.

The missionaries gathering this intelligence aren't just violating privacy—they're conducting reconnaissance for a cultural invasion.

Digital Colonialism Goes Global

What's happening in the Javari Valley isn't staying in the Javari Valley. The technology being deployed against Brazilian Indigenous communities is available everywhere, which means these tactics could be exported to threaten isolated peoples worldwide.

Papua New Guinea, the Philippines, the Andaman Islands—anywhere that isolated Indigenous communities still exist, this playbook could be deployed. Solar-powered evangelical devices don't care about national borders, and neither do the missionary organizations using them.

We're witnessing the beta test of a new form of digital colonialism, one that uses renewable energy and remote technology to bypass traditional protections for vulnerable communities.

The Resistance

Not everyone is impressed by this high-tech evangelism. Indigenous rights advocates are documenting these technological intrusions and building legal cases for stronger enforcement of existing protective laws. They're arguing that these devices represent not just regulatory violations, but fundamental assaults on Indigenous peoples' right to self-determination.

Brazil's Indigenous protection agency, FUNAI, is scrambling to adapt its protective strategies to address technological threats that didn't exist when current policies were developed. Traditional approaches focused on preventing direct contact may need to evolve to encompass digital intrusions that can undermine Indigenous autonomy without requiring physical presence.

The question is whether legal frameworks can evolve fast enough to address technological threats that are already being deployed.

The Future of Isolation

The solar sermon devices in the Javari Valley represent more than just a local controversy about missionary tactics. They're a preview of what isolation looks like in an age when technology can reach anywhere.

Geographic barriers that protected Indigenous communities for centuries are being systematically eliminated by drones, satellite imagery, and solar-powered devices. The natural buffers that allowed isolated peoples to maintain their ways of life are disappearing, replaced by technological intrusions that can penetrate any territory with sufficient battery life.

The question facing Indigenous rights advocates, government officials, and anyone who gives a shit about cultural diversity is whether legal and institutional protections can replace the natural barriers that technology has eliminated.

The Eternal Broadcast

Somewhere in the Javari Valley, that yellow device is still broadcasting its evangelical messages, powered by the same sun that has sustained Indigenous life in the Amazon for millennia. It never stops, never sleeps, never questions whether its recipients want to hear about Jesus Christ.

It's the perfect metaphor for evangelical persistence: relentless, solar-powered, and completely indifferent to the wishes of its audience. The device will continue broadcasting until it breaks down or someone physically removes it, delivering salvation whether the Korubo people want it or not.

This is what the future of cultural imperialism looks like: renewable, remote, and running 24/7 in the world's last isolated places. The missionaries may have been banned from Indigenous territories, but their messages live on, carried by technology that never gets tired, never questions its mission, and never stops trying to convert the unconvertible.

Welcome to the age of digital evangelism, where even the most isolated humans on Earth can't escape the spread of Christianity through solar-powered speakers and surveillance drones. The future is wireless, the future is renewable, and the future is coming for everyone—whether they want it or not.